


Ford Doesn't Do Parties

by Amydiddle



Series: Autumn Fic Prompts 2k16 [4]
Category: Gravity Falls
Genre: College Roomies, Drabble, Fidds is a sassy southern mother, Ford is an anti-social child, Gen, Halloween, halloween party
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-10-06
Updated: 2016-10-06
Packaged: 2018-08-19 19:04:45
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,074
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8221618
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Amydiddle/pseuds/Amydiddle
Summary: It is Halloween Night at Backupsmore and Ford is all set to stay in and study with some cheap halloween candy he had bought the other day but his dorm-mate has other plans. Fiddleford McGucket is determined to get the man out of the dorm room and to his first college party.





	1. Doctor Stanford FrankenPines

**Author's Note:**

> Autumn Writing Meme Prompt 1: Matching Halloween Costumes  
> Autumn Writing Meme Prompt 8: Halloween Party

“Stanford Pines you cannot be serious,” Fiddleford groaned as he stepped into their dorm with his arms full of shopping bags. “Are you really studying right now? It is a holiday.”

“A holiday based on pagan religions and some believe worships the devil,” Stanford said, not lifting his eyes from the book in front of him. “It isn’t even one that gives us a day off of the school year thus making it irrelevant.”

Fiddleford didn’t look that impressed as he set the bags down on his bed and moved over to snatch the book out of his dorm-mate’s hand. Stanford rolled just as Fidds made a swipe for it so the book was just out of reach. The smirk on the man’s face made the southerner bristle but he kept quiet.

“Fine, keep your dang book,” Fiddleford huffed and turned his attention back to his bags, “but I expect you to choose someone from the costumes I bought and be ready to go to the party in the next hour.”

“Party?” Stanford asked, finally looking away from the book in his hands. “Who says I was going to a party?”

“I did,” Fiddleford said, “Your college experience don’t have to be as full of books as you think it does.”

“You sound like my mother,” Ford muttered.

“I am practically your mother,” the man huffed, “In everythin’ but bringin’ you into this world. Thank the Lord for that.”

Fiddleford grabbed one of the bags he had carried in and dropped it onto Stanford’s chest.

“Choose a costume, enjoy college life,” Fidds said, looking down at the man, “Live a little? You are only eighteen for Pete’s sake; a freshman. Might as well get the parties and craziness over with while you are still able.”

Stanford frowned but let his book close. Fiddleford considered it a victory only when Ford sat up and started going through the bag.

“There better not be any dumb costumes in here,” Ford muttered.

“I promise,” Fidds said with a sly smile, “I only chose ones that I thought suited you.”

Ford pulled out a prisoner costume and gave his friend a very unimpressed look. Fiddleford just grinned innocently at him and winked.

“Oh, that one is a good choice,” Fidds said, “Would go well with my police officer costume.”

Stanford threw the package at Fiddleford’s head. The man just laughed and dodged the projectile easily so it bounced off one to the stacks of books that littered their shared room. The stack of books swayed dangerously prompting Ford to stand up and hold it up before it could fall.

He waited a few more moments to make sure the books were balanced before turning his attention back to the bag on his bed. Carefully he took out the pre-made costumes that Fiddleford had bought him and looked them all over with a frown on his face

When the bathroom door opened and Fidds came back out into the main room. His clothes were changed into the costume already. The patchwork stripes of greys, blues, blacks, browns, and whites confusing him.

“And what are you going to be for this party?”

Fidds threw the clothes he had been wearing on his bed and looked over at his dorm-mate.

“A rag doll kinda dealie,” Fidds said, looking down at the cheap material, “Could have made somethin’ better myself but I waited because I wanted to be somethin’ else. I went in to that store tryin’ to find a mad scientist or somethin’ like Frankenstein but they didn’ seem to have my size. Had yours though so I got ‘em for ya’ if you wanted to go for that we could spike up your hair more the usual and put some streaks in it.”

Ford pulled the cheap costume out of the bag and looked it over. The gloves that were included wouldn’t work but he had his own. It seemed to be the only thing in the bag he was willing to wear anyway. He wasn’t too keen on being a clown, a school girl, or an owl.

“You know,” Stanford said, observing what else was in his bag. “If I am the mad scientist could always make you my creation.”

“Eh?”

Fidds stopped messing around with the face paint container and looked over at Stanford with a confused expression on his face.

“I am just saying I have the bolts,” Ford said, picking them up, “And if I help with the make-up I am sure that I could get you to look like some-sort of humanoid ragdoll monster.”

Fidds raised an eyebrow at his dorm-mate, “Thought you didn’ want to go to the party now you are suggesting couples costuming.”

“I was just making a suggestion to spice up your rather drab costume,” Stanford said; his ears turning red at the tips.

Fidds kept his stern face for a second before laughing at his dorm-mate’s expression.

“You are just adorable, Stanford Pines,” he said, giggles breaking up the words slightly. “I think that sounds like a very nice idea.”

Fidds patted the other man’s face before turning to grab some face paint, cheap eyeshadow, and eyeliner before heading to the bathroom again. He hung back and stared at the confused expression Stanford still had on his face.

“Well come on, _Doctor_ , you said you were going to help ‘create’ me. We don’ have the time to be waiting for some lightnin’ to strike the room.”

Stanford blinked and set down the costume on the bed and hurried after Fiddleford. For a second there seemed to be some flash of light outside their window but he ignored it. More focused on dragging up those old memories of helping his brother with special effects make-up without feeling any of the emotions that went along with that knowledge.


	2. Dancing Ain't Half-Bad

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Autumn Writing Meme Prompt 8: Halloween Party
> 
> (( Longer then intended, oops ))

Stanford repeated the elements of the periodic table in his head over and over again as pain covered fingers moved through his hair to make it stick up more. Fiddleford’s grumblings not being heard over the pounding of the music around him. He looked up at the pained face of his dorm-mate and gave a small smile at how the man’s face was scrunched up in concentration to keep the usually gravity-defying hair up since it decided to listen to the laws of gravity suddenly.

Gently he took Fidds’ wrists and moved them away from his hair.

“It is fine, stop fussing over it,” Stanford said, glancing around the mess of college students to see if anyone had noticed the fusing.

Fiddleford just narrowed his eyes. His painted fingers twitched before he nodded and pulled away from his dorm-mate.

“Fine,” the southerner relented, “But I was very proud of them white streaks and how it was all messed up when we got there now it is flatter than an opossum on the highway.”

“It isn’t that bad,” Stanford said as he stood up from the chair and popped his back, “You are just looking for an excuse to not leave me alone.”

Fiddleford frowned behind all the paint on his face. The man did a strategic move and looked away at the dancing crowd in the middle of the home the part was being hosted in.

“Fidds,” Stanford said, close enough to the man’s ear so he could be heard over the music.

The sudden intrusion of the personal space made the slighter man jump and he spun around to face his dorm-mate.

“Just go dance if you really want to,” Stanford said, motioning with his head towards the dance floor. “I am eighteen and in college. I can handle myself.”

“Those two things don’ give ya a very convincin’ case,” Fiddleford sighed but he slowly inched his ways towards the floor. The music began to change and the crowd screamed in joy hearing a popular song start to play.

Fiddleford’s blue eyes lit up in the multi-colored lights that were strung up around the place. The man unable to resist the luring beat.

Stanford chuckled as he watched his friend join the crowd and dance in time with the beat. He watched the easy motions of the man before turning his attention to the punch bowl and snacks laid out just a few steps away.

He ran a hand through Fiddleford’s hard work that was his hair and made his way around a few people and to the snack table. He took a cup from the stack and helped himself to the weirdly green punch and sighed.

They had only been at the party for about an hour and he was already missing his books and blankets. It was Halloween, sure, but all this socializing had never been his forte. He took a sip of the drink and crinkled up his nose as the odd taste; weirdly limey but also something else that just tasted artificial.

Carefully, Stanford glanced around to make sure no one was looking before he dumped the drink back into the bowl and left the empty cup amongst the other used and empty cups on the table. He grabbed himself a few decorated cookies and moved back over to the seat that he had been sitting in.

The song had changed again and Fiddleford was still dancing to his heart’s content. The wide smile on his face enough to make Stanford laugh as he ate the sugary treats he had taken from the table. He assumed before the night was out most of the face paint on his friend’s face was going to be running down with the sweat.

Fiddleford grinned at him from the dance floor and motioned for him to join him. Stanford glanced around before he realized he was motioning to him and shook his head no desperately. Fidds just rolled his eyes at that and broke free of the crowd to walk back over to Ford. The southerner stole the last cookie from the man’s hand.

“Come on,” Fidds said, “One dance? You haven’ even really participated yet.”

“I am perfectly content with watching you from the side-lines,” Ford said, finishing off the cookie that had not been stolen.

Ford’s words only seemed to make the southerner pout and grab his dorm-mate’s arm. For such a small guy Fiddleford was surprisingly strong; the man dragging Ford towards the dance floor with a determined look on his painted face was enough for Stanford to give into the dragging in and let himself be moved near the mess of bodes.

“I am not that good of a dancer,” Stanford said, looking around at the other costumed faces nervously.

“So?” Fidds said, already moving easily along with the music, “You don’ gotta be good. You just got to have fun. Feel the music.”

Stanford rolled his eyes but let his foot tap along with the tune, “Feel the music. Now you are starting to sound like those hippies.”

“Who says I ain’t one,” Fiddleford laughed as he grabbed his roommates’ hands and moved the man’s arms back and forth. “Don’ just tap your foot, that is what wall flowers do. Put your body into it.”

Ford focused on the words the other was giving him, trying to find the proper rhythm to move along with. Fidds sigh dramatically and dropped Ford’s hands to move closer and grab the other’s face.

“Don’ thin,” He said slowly, looking Stanford directly in the eyes, “Just do.”

“Just do?” Stanford mouthed, obviously confused with the concept Fiddleford had just presented him.

Fiddleford didn’t seem to hear him. He had moved away and started to dance along with the new song that had just come on. Stanford watched him for a moment before taking in a breath and closing his eyes.

The music around him was all he focused on. Not Fiddleford, not the people around him; just the sound. His body swayed a little at the tempo and he just let the sound take his movements.

“There you go, Stanford!” Fiddleford laugh, “Now you are gettin’ into it!”

Ford opened an eye slowly and a grin spread over his face. Not thinking surprisingly worked and this mindless moving around and doing nothing productive actually brought some joy to his heart. He let Fidds take his hand again and lead him into an awkward spin. A laugh escaping him at the action.

Maybe avoiding dancing most of his life had been a mistake. This was more fun than he could have ever imagined.


End file.
